Prowl
by Gemenied
Summary: Grace is unsettled. - An add-on to "Yahrzeit"


A/N: To make a long story short - even though this is a vignette - I won't put it inside the other story as it really goes off on a different tangent. It's experimental in style, though I don't know what exactly the experiment is. It is a follow up to a scene from "Yahrzeit" that I find both annoying and from a shipper's pov heavenly. It was also written with KT Tunstall's song "Lost" in my ear. Many thanks go out to ShadowSamurai83 who betaed this for me.

Title: Prowl

Rating: T (for some swear words)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really.

Spoilers: "Yahrzeit"

Summary: Grace is a little unsettled.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Prowl**

_I could slap Eve_, you say out loud, but the sound is eaten by the room. There's no echo, no reply. There won't be any, of course, because you are alone.

It's like watching an accident happen. You are rooted to the spot, want to run, want to look away, but can't. You know that it is inevitable. It happens a little more every moment; you know it, you see it, but you can't do anything, because it isn't your place any more.

You looked good these last days, the colours flattering you, the cuts suiting your figure. You tried to downplay it, uncomfortable to admit to the development, for fear of it failing quickly. But only one person noticed - Eve, obviously - so it wasn't so hard. The ribbing was still a bit embarrassing, but you took it in stride, because the night before was quite a bit of an ego boost. The confidence you had is gone, because nobody cared.

He lied to you. You knew it as soon as he said the words. You didn't even need to look over your shoulder to know that the smile, insincere as it was, slipped off his face. Therefore, you didn't feel guilty about lying to him as well. He didn't notice. His question had lacked real interest anyway. The lack of interest stings, because it is a testament to how bad things are.

The case leaves you restless; that's what you tell yourself. It's true, actually, what you are slowly uncovering leaves you in upheaval. You know this time in history only from books and stories told by your elders, and you know that they gave you a biased point of view, but it seems preposterous now how you always prided yourself in the camaraderie, the survival instinct of your fellow countrymen. Mostly you were proud that your country remained the beacon of freedom and safety in darkest times. Freedom and safety, my arse! For whom? The case leaves you unsettled, because despite all the scepticism you always carried, it still upsets your view of the world.

It drives you mad that you don't know how to classify her. She'd be a valuable addition to the team on a regular basis. As a person and a colleague you could/do like her. She's a nice woman, smart and polite too. And she is beautiful, no doubt about it. What you don't like is the attention she receives.

There you've said it. Well done, Miss Super-shrink! You have the self-analysis down to a 'T'! What you don't have is the bloody courage to draw a real conclusion and carry it the hell out! How's that for buggered up? You know, yet don't act. That angers you, because it makes you look pathetic.

She makes strange requests. Not so strange, usually, but you are working with a line of 'investigation' that's all a bit muddy and a bit on the outside and all about having more information than the others. Information is power, but so easily manipulated and corrupted. He played by the rules this time and you are relieved about that. The surprise was that he felt the need to check on her afterwards. It hurts, because he never is this considerate with you, unless it is in life and death situations.

You might be overdoing it a little here, blowing things out of proportion, but this is your house, and you are alone and to be frank, you feel crap. You think you are a tad bit entitled to make things bigger than they are.

If you sum it all up, you are hurt, angry, unsettled, stung, unsure, pushed aside and alone. Oh, and pathetic too, because you make this mental list even though you remind yourself every few minutes that it's none of your business, not your concern, an unnecessary disruption of your peace of mind. This peaceful mindset wasn't there to begin with, but that's beside the point. Your firm command lasts just about as long as you take to say the words out loud. You take much longer to ridicule yourself over it.

The house is quiet, but fully alight. You couldn't take the shadows tonight. Still, you prowl the rooms like a caged tiger, antsy and unsettled as they come.

You should have called Jack and asked him for dinner. But you told him at the end of your last date that a case has cropped up and you'd be too busy. It was an excuse and he was gracious enough not to call you on it.

You shouldn't date men named Jack anyway. You did before and out of memory or grief or habit, or even duty, you still wear his ring after ten years.

Tears are rising up and you firmly tamp them down. It doesn't work, they now burn in your throat.

You shouldn't think of Jack. You shouldn't think of Peter. Don't wonder what he does and with whom. It's not your place to know any more. And like in typical car crash fashion, it will inevitably happen and you'll have to watch it anyway.

The thing is, and you say it out loud to the empty house, you should just revert to your original plan.

Slap Eve!

* * *

Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
